Hey Mister Sandman, sing me a song
by Lil' Monk
Summary: Tumbling in and out of dreams be it Noah or Exorcist, laughter or tears , various characters of D.Gray-man find themselves in the most unexpected situations.
1. Tyki, Tyki, what a micky

**A/N: **D.Gray-man © Hoshino Katsura. I make no monies off this fic, except to polish my writing skills.

The official romanization of character names was revealed in volume 6, therefore I shall be following the mangaka's somewhat engrish spelling, no matter how odd it may sound english-wise.

Sometimes, it's hard to tell reality from fantasy.

0o---------------------o0

Ah, bliss was being in a different wing from Jasdero, Debitto and Skin. The way these occasional 'family sleepovers' went, the twins would purposely break the rules to pull a Jasdebi and rile Skin, thereby resulting in a few holes and grins and chaos as it became a game of bumpy things that smash and stab in the night. Hence the Earl of Millennium's castle was perpetually in the fad of construction.

But it was a night of rest, to relax in the security of safe indulgence without having to do anything. To bask in a collection of literature that would have the world's scholars drooling like mindless hounds. Not that there was anything else to do here today, dinners and discussions of dulldeebiedoo notwithstanding.

Stone walls were covered with wallpaper the shade of an aubergine just picked off the stalk, and lush cream carpeting protected the toes from potential cold. A bedside lamp rooted into the wall while arching up and over to finally resemble a withered rose emitted a comfortable intensity of light. The four-poster bed was piled high with a fat mattress and pillows and blankets, soft sheets tucked in tightly with a hint of crispness from being newly purchased. Red bled into white, and a tint of gold dusted the designs of Dante's Inferno carved into the black wood. Marvellous. Screaming faces frozen in eternal agony and fear added a sweet homey touch. It was a pity that the desk and rocking chair didn't have the same character, standing in a plain pale yellow akin to freshly bleached lemons. Logs had been recently added to the fireplace, giving the flames a nice amber glow as they happily chomped up the wood and pulled a few comedic faces in the process.

A faint shriek from somewhere distant induced a glare from the sole occupant in this room, causing the fiery figures to dance quietly.

Hell, he could put up with these occasional get-togethers for the sake of Road.

Yes, Road, apple of the Earl's eye. The family's eyes, to be more exact. She behaved like the youngest of them all, but she might just be the smartest. Able to get akuma to like her without trying, noticing little details while disarmingly playful, and capable of the most precise and unpredictable mood swings. It was only when she got mischievous that the girl vanished, and glimpses of the woman she might eventually become appeared. Delightfully vicious in a dignified manner, armed with a cool wisdom and detached control far beyond a mere mortal's imagination, lips naturally curved in the hint of a smile. But those predatory eyes were as impenetrable as ever, regardless of the mood. Like staring into a pool of-

"Tyki?"

His newly-acquired book was still open on the chapter index. Quickly flipping past 30-odd pages, he did not bother to look up as the knock was heard, while answering flippantly with a tinge of exasperation.

"What do you want now, Road?"

"Can I come in?"

She sounded amazingly polite and demure and un-Noah-like. Curiosity got the better of him, thus he agreed.

A veritable whirlwind of pointy hair and barely-restrained energy greeted him, prancing in and hopping onto the bed without saying a single word. She sat there cross-legged, eyes downcast and a pout that went nowhere, as the seconds started to tick by. Huh? Oh wait, wait for the storm to break…

"GYAAAAAH! I'M BOOOOOOOOOOOORED! The Earl took Lero and the twins and Skin are tearing up the east wing and I can't participate otherwise I'll mess up this new nightgown which was a present from him and get scolded and- I'm having NO fun and you're hiding away! Entertain me!"

Her ability to vocalise without stopping to breathe never ceased to impress him. Not taking his eyes off the book, he casually flipped the page. The pillows might start flying at any moment.

"Firstly, _Gyah_ is not the response of a lady and is something I do not usually receive from the fairer sex. As to the second, go change into something else and then take part, without bothering me. And thirdly, learn to say 'please'."

"Tyyyyyyyyyyyyyyki…"

"What?"

"Why are you being more distantly polite than usual towards me?"

That got his attention. What was she on about? The question got him a sharp thwack across the head with her rag doll and nearly rendered him cross-eyed.

"Ehhh? Don't you know what I'm asking? Unless you're a dumbass, you're trying to pretend or you're unaware of it, you've been-"

The rest of what she said was an eye-opener, almost like throwing oil onto hot coals, or shoving a gong into his ears. Him? More fake than usual? What? His stare was starting to take on a more menacing quality, not that it had been kind to begin with.

The swing of her arm and the doll was stopped by his hand closing over her wrist.

"No. More." _Or else_ was the unspoken warning in a terse expression.

He might have been unintentionally considering murder and channelling it without restraint, judging from the way dark blue eyes widened in response, a slight shiver shaking her arm and her posture starting to hunch over slightly, like a flower closing up- His hand tightened around the small wrist, making her gasp from the pressure. But her chin was resolutely jutting out, if pursed lips now set into an unyielding line were any indication to go by.

"You've always been the only one who tolerates all my moods, even though the Earl puts up with my pranks. But I don't know what's gotten into you recently, Tyki. Yet I know what I've said is true. Is it something I've done? Is that why you're s-so… so… to me?"

To see a currently not-so-confident Road Kamelot struggling to pull the balancing act of pride and pleading and bravado at the same time was as rare as an akuma farting. And he knew she cared about him as an individual, not just because they were family. Very much so, to be having this type of mood. It warmed and pleased him with this reaffirmation. But he didn't want to think about her words either. They treaded water on the surface of his consciousness, which protected his subconscious from deeper analysis. For they disturbed. _Danger, Will Robinson, Danger_ was the clang of caution at perilous truth that could make him v- v- gyah- He'd been reading too many drag queen adventure novels set in the world of white water rafting and writing.

Releasing her wrist, he smiled and picked up the book before spreading his arms outwards, in a sort of apologetic shrug and indication that everything was alright and whatever else this over-used human gesture was supposed to do in the realm of friendly appeasement.

"How about I read you a story? This omnibus makes for terrific bedtime comfort."

To see her expression lighten up considerably, like a light bulb being switched on as she hurled herself into his embrace with a squeal of happiness, washed a glaze of calm over the entire setting. He wrapped his arms about her and brought the book closer to them. Sitting straighter so her hair would stop poking his nose, even as she wriggled a little to try and get comfortable, this might almost be some sort of bliss. To have Road quiet and amenable and listening like a little child sucking on candy apples was nothing short of a miracle. And selecting a tale about werewolves, he brought it to life.

His voice morphed into the coldly biting winds, the relentless frost, the savagery and fierce guardianship of closeness between those in the pack as they travelled across a barren landscape seeking something they could not yet define. Despair snapped at their heels, and they found no place suitable for respite. The hours rose, the storm fell, and they finally came across a cabin. There, they found an old lady abandoned with her deformed grandson, both dying of starvation. Her offer was to sing them a song, in return for a quick death. And the words spoke of life and suffering and war and hate and regret, before melting into peace and solitude and eternal glory. Of love lost, of chances squandered, of destroyed hopes, of hidden fears that healed in a song of the night. And the images shaped by her maddened the pack, for they revived a past long-forgotten. And the werewolves pounced on the humans, tearing them apart in a bloody frenzy. After eating, they howled a funeral dirge to celebrate all night long.

".. Knowing who they were tasted like the turn of the seasons, while delighting in the lust of the hunt, and falling in love. It was deliciously like coming home. The End. FIN."

"…"

"That's the ending? It's crummily sappy! Are you a closet romantic? Then again, it sounds like something Allen Walker would say. Except he wouldn't use the word 'lust'. Not Allen-kun, ahahaha-"

The story was sour on his tongue and his arms were lead, as he watched her eyes take on a lively sparkle and mouth curve into a giggle. And it involved what he didn't want to analyse, which was a boot to his face via her merriment.

Allen. Goddamn (pardon his french). Walker.

Ever since facing off against the exorcist only once, she'd been mentioning him rather frequently in all things related to the Earl's plans. And even worse, it was starting to extend to non-related things where the plans were concerned. Oh yes, the cheerful teenager with white hair, an excess of being cutely polite and a diabolical cardsharp. Whom Road always demanded to have first dibs on at family meals, and could make her blabber like a love-struck lunatic without even try- Wait, love? More like crush. It had to be a crush at most, since it was only one short encounter. She must have messed greatly with his mind and enjoyed the results, for her to be this fascinated. After all, she was the Noah who despised humans and didn't think twice about killing them.

However, he wished she would shut up on the subject.

"… are you even listening? Uh, Tyki, are you gritting your teeth, 'cos it's making your chin a bit wrinkly?"

"You brat, if you don't shut up… I will have… to… TICKLE YOU!"

The bed nearly exploded in a flurry of limbs and rumpled blankets and a shower of pillows, shrieks punctuated with gasps of laughter as the smaller girl tried to scramble away from her amused companion without really trying. And the man had a hard time holding on to a wriggly bundle of impishness whose unpolished kicking tendencies tended to strike sore spots, if not careful. He paused in mid-tickle, as another observation suddenly struck him.

"Why are you wearing your light side's appearance? We're on free and easy turf. And where are your stripy socks, even though the Earl bought you a nightgown- of- ahehehe-"

It was milky-coloured, with a smattering of wispy lace at the cuffs and buttons and bottom of the short sleepwear. Above all, it was demure, dainty and dull. Not her style. Knowing Road, she wouldn't have put it on willingly. Not unless she'd done something that got on their leader's nerves. The very thought was enough to nearly make him giggle, so he settled for a chuckle.

"Well, I and Lero accidentally ate up his favourite jar of jam without his permission. Cloudberries. It was only a small portion, and not a lot for two people but really yummy! However, he sure threw a snit! He wouldn't help me with my homework, and he didn't approve of the sleepover this time. However, he said he'd let it go, provided I wear this _thingie_ without socks and put on the appearance for the whole of tonight… While being a good girl. And he said he'd know if I cheated. This SUCKS!"

He tweaked her nose affectionately, even as she wrinkled it in distaste at being disciplined. Being ordered to be good was one of the worst punishments ever. That earned him a cursory glance, and a narrowing of eyes. Her features relaxed and became less petulant to reflect a runaway train of musing.

"On the other hand, I'm somewhat dressed like you tonight. Your white silk shirt and black pants- So BORING. You dress like those pathetic humans you value, even the exorcists… kinda like Allen-kun… but he's so interesting, unlike his dress sense…"

Seeing how lost in thought she was, how expressive her range of emotions were when absorbed in a scrawny human, it _rankled_. The drumming of blood was starting to pound in his ears. Playfulness gone and relaxing his grip on her, slowly inching back and increasing the distance between them until he was almost at the opposite end of the bed, he wasn't sure what he was feeling now. It was a murky maelstrom of emotions and thoughts that whirled and fused but never quite fit together properly. However, it finally threatened to boil over.

"Falling in love is deliciously like coming home, eh… I wonder what it's like. And if Allen-kun knows what that is…"

Her words were now lighter and dreamy, her arms on either side towards opposite ends of the bed with palms up, her gaze fixed on the ceiling but vision focused beyond, and her eyes… not guarded but so honestly, plainly, merely being- Speech had dried and shrivelled into a clogging crust at the back of his throat. The drums were too loud. His chest felt somewhat heavy. To be shown that a non-Noah meant something to Road was beyond description, except for the bitter tang that lingered. Was she really- truly- If only she would just stop. She was meant for far better, and not light _white_** trash**!

Speaking of stopping, he should have voiced it again because that was something she was clearly not doing tonight, and each word was a pin in a pinned cushion that was anything but cushy. And with each stab, the bitterness rippled and spread and ripped at something that reacted, turning into sourness and- What was this sensation?

".. But you know? He had a good chance to win. But he didn't, with his weapon to my head and one shot to end it all. As I left them behind, I glanced back. And I saw… he… He was crying, despite his anger. And his face- As if his tears might not just have been for what I did, or that in another time and place we could have been friends, but- just maybe- he cried-"

Her voice was barely a whisper.

"For me. If only…"

A suspicious film glimmered in oceanic depths, as they stared unblinkingly upwards. And in this moment, seeing her so vulnerable that she might as well be naked, Tyki would have marvelled but the only word he could think of was 'damp'. And to know that no one had ever been able to reduce her to this, so that in this teardrop of time, she was not a Noah… Not a super-human enemy to the exorcists. Not a destroyer of this world. Not a million other things that could be heaped upon her head and she wouldn't care.

Road Kamelot was simply a human girl with dreams and not afraid to love.

Even if she might not be aware of it yet- The sheer beauty and potential of what had been revealed to him, courtesy of an enemy he barely knew and now absolutely loathed, was too much. A message he had taken for granted in bits and pieces all along did a boomerang back into his awareness. Only this time, the immense simplicity was a giant fan of light that batted hard and _goddamn_didthegoodhurt- The weight in his chest pulsed like molten lava, and felt as if he had been pierced by one of his own Teases and was being eaten alive from the inside out. Hand pressed tightly to the center where it stung, the lone witness to her rambling slowly keeled over. Only one hand digging into the bed sheets kept his face from kissing the mattress.

"T-Tyki? What's wrong? Why are you- Is it your chest? I'll get the Earl-"

Swallowing hard, taking a deep breath and trying to speak without giving away any of what he was going through, he shook his head and kept his gaze averted.

"Just sing. Something. Anything."

"What?"

Worry and what-the-fuck was written all over her face. Not that he could tell, since he wasn't looking. No, Tyki Mikk had more important things to worry about, such as not revealing his achilles heel that had so nicely slapped him in the face with all the sweetness of a ninja ambush. Then again, he couldn't remember whether Road had much singing capability when it came to improvisation (so it might not have been the best of distractions) but his reeling mind was grasping at straws. Even as his worlds of light and dark were threatening to lose balance and implode into each other with all the grace of enraged killer whales, thereby sinking the entire ship.

"eitherdoitor just Get. Out."

Perhaps she was unsure of what was happening, seeing how white the knuckles of his hand blanched while fingertips were obscured by the bed sheets, and given that Tyki was in a weirdly scary mood that might result in hurting himself… because she didn't leave him alone. Not yet. Her eyes fell on the book.

_"Hey Mister Sandman, sing me a song"_

Oh yes, Allen Walker. His entire being seethed, from remembering his poison of humanity. Just as she was singing to Tyki now, he would sing to that damned exorcist. Sing a song of ruin and torment and delicious agony culminating in death from his Teases. Revenge for the excruciatingly bothersome pins he was enduring now, the disgust and resentment and other untold-as-yet emotions that burned and bubbled up from whichever asshole had first birthed them at the dawn of time. And it would be wonderful when the cause of his current state perished, the Innocence destroyed. What was so special about a runt?! He would rather be damned than let that one obtain their family treasure. One could finally thank the Millennium Earl for giving him the card with that sickening name. If the Dark Religious Organisation thought their general Yeegar had been given a terrible turn of fate, they ain't seen nothin' yet. Oh. Yesssssssss.

The urge to ravage, even the watered-down pleasure from the prospect of doing so was an incredible turn-on.

_"If you're gonna play with me all night long…"_

She had a high-pitched singsong clarity that was as clean as the drop of a coin, although a nervous undercurrent shimmered beneath each drawn-out intonation, giving the off-key ballad a pleasant charm of its own. Chanting the two lines repeatedly might have been her way of trying to calm more than just him. And it helped to provide and re-establish some stability to whatever had been about to hijack his peaceful existence. The magnitude of his reaction was rather surprising.

Gently easing his grip on the bedclothes, he allowed himself to collapse on the mattress and roll over, hand no longer pushing into his flesh but resting. And she lifted and moved his hand aside in hers, bending over to place one ear to his chest to obviously check his heartbeat. The contact startled him, and he didn't quite understand why. Where he previously would have ruffled her hair and laughingly told her not to worry, why was he finding it difficult to move, and was it getting a tad warm? He needed to organise himself, regain time to think properly. He was still in a precarious state. Right and wrong were tenuous and if he of all the Noahs didn't have some sort of adherence to that, who would?

"W-Where'd you get the song from?"

"Huh? Well, the words were on the back of your book and the only thing I could actually skim without squinting lots, so I improvised. Fast. Not too bad, eh?"

She beamed at him. He would have said something, except for being somewhat distracted by her head on his chest, with one hand on his stomach. And her thigh rested on his, one knee carelessly between his outstretched legs.

"Oh."

"Is that all you have to say, not that I'm even sure how I sound?! Anyway, are you better? What's the matter?"

Blue met gold, and the gaze of neither side flinched at how no one was sure what was going on. Or to be less diplomatic, they were obviously preoccupied with different issues. Road was probably trying to figure out why her handsome but almost impossible-to-decipher bedtime nanny had given her a major fright related to potential heart problems, and possibly some white hairs. Tyki was trying to figure out how to gracefully eject her from the room within the next 10 seconds or at the very least, off him ASAP or he was going to be very embarrassed.

Swallowing hard and clearing his throat, he inhaled and opened his mouth to speak. And forgot to exhale as slim fingers brushed his cheek, the touch short-circuiting any coherent thoughts he had previously been regaining. This was not funny. She was now sitting up and looking at him with the sombreness of an adult.

"Are you ok?"

"Yes, sort of." _Let me get away from you and I'll be just fine._

Eyebrows scrunched towards each other and nose crinkled in disbelief, she leaned closer, peering at his face in fierce scrutiny. And the girl was back, thankfully displacing the woman.

"You are a bit pale, but your cheeks are starting to look flushed. It might be a fever. Or stress. But as long as-"

"Really? I'm fine." _And I'll be even better, if you'd shut up in the process. Especially about Allen Walker._

As two paths of thought fought for dominance, his traitorous mind chose the third path. Irrelevance. And somehow became relevant again. Namely: _Oh, fuck. I can't be doing this. She's so…_

And then she drew back slightly and smiled, displaying a serene maturity that radiated gentle care and sweet obliviousness. By now, someone with more worldly awareness would be backing away or at the very least, get wary with the signs from him. Not Road. Not when her family had done too darn good a job at ensuring her safety and hence ignorance in such matters. Not that she would suspect her own in this. She remained where she was, fingers on his cheek, and expressed what could possibly be the corniest line suitable.

"As long as you're ok, I'm happy."

And got to him. His response was equally corny and clichéd. _She's so beautiful._

It was as if the age-old discord between his two sides fit perfectly with that thought. And he couldn't tear away his gaze, couldn't run, couldn't resist the treachery that his protective and honourable intentions failed to keep at bay. Now incredibly aware of slender slopes and alluring lines temptingly emphasised but not concealed in a short nightgown, the expense of exposed leg and how trustingly innocent she was, the Noah of Pleasure couldn't be more blessed and cursed at this instance. The threshold between child and woman. Hm. Mm.

Pulling himself up into a more dignified position, he closed his eyes. One hand closed over hers, removing her touch from his cheek and intertwining their fingers, brought their connection to rest on the bed. A tic had appeared above the left eyebrow, lips straightened into a grim line, and his features were oddly contorted, as if poised with indecision of what expression to make.

_Our Millennium Earl might kill me. _

Might. Not Will. Oh dear. That settled it.

Dark lashes lifted to reveal a shade of amber that was frighteningly compelling. All superficial charm and politeness had been discarded. What was left was raw, dangerous and undeniable.

Ignoring the look of ???, his gaze remained on her chin, the other hand drifting up to touch it. Index finger resting beneath the tip, thumb slowly running along the tender pink of her lower lip, the sudden shift in his demeanour was somewhat unnerving. He seemed almost… hungry?

"Road, remember how you had a certain question for me…" His voice was hoarse and almost raspy, like an iron gate thickly coated with rust.

"…and then you were concerned over what's been happening here?" That strange edge flaked away with each second to become slower, softer, darker, silkier and sharper.

"You see, I've been in pain…" His gaze mesmerised her wide-eyed confusion, his body language belying a surety without refusal or regret for what was to happen next. The power of his focus was instinct, and instinct had been sorely tested this night.

"So much pain..." Then he paused to take a deep breath, stiff shoulders relaxing.

"And you can help me ease it… only if... like…" So saying, he pulled her hand above and past his head, in a movement somewhat reminiscent of a dance just before supporting and dipping the partner.

"Coming home."

And before she could draw breath to ask or answer as she fell towards him, his lips and warmth stopped it all.

And in one smooth motion, he had rolled her over onto her back with his other hand on her waist, one leg between hers, and their entwined fingers landed on a pillow.

And it was almost scary. Sublime. Shattering. Sticky. Soul-shaking. Sweet.

And the fiery figures danced to the ever-changing shadows cast against the walls, the untended fire eventually dying down.

He shot up, a cold sweat not helping the fact that it was too hot.

What the heck was that?!

The book was open to chapter 18 on page 6. The bed was still impeccable. A few crumbs from the lingonberry-and-maple-syrup cupcake dotted the plate lying next to the bedside lamp. He was still thankfully sane, even if his clothes were damp from reacting to the- This was the last time he was taking anything Road and Lero baked for supper, after being painstakingly convinced by them to try a little. At least he didn't have a stomachache. Shaking his head and suppressing a shudder, he realised how exhausted he was from the tension that the ridiculous nightmare must have put him through.

As if Road would behave like an innocent, jabbering child. As if reality, much less Road, oldest and most calculating of all the Noah siblings, would conform to what his imagination had conjoured up.

For now, sleep. And tomorrow, he could return to the mines and a day of simplicity.

Undressing and about to turn in, light footfalls followed what sounded like snatches of verbal conversation outside his room. As they neared his door, Tyki recognised the steady rhythm and clatter of shoes as Road's. She didn't stop, but continued walking on. What she'd been merrily half-singing gave him a chill and uneasy heat that accompanied him through the night.

"_Hey Mister Sandman, sing me a song_

_If you're gonna play with me all night long_

_And when you see a cuckoo bird, let 'im know…"_

o0-----------0o

Written in 12 hours, re-edits and all.


	2. The B & B Vs S & M owsies

**The B & B Vs S & M owsies**

Taking a deep drag on his cigarette, the lone figure in this room exhaled. Perhaps he was getting philosophical in his old(er) age, and the walls currently reflected it. A mish-mash of black and red plastered on white, of hearts and spades and clubs and stars and diamonds thrown together like a jumble sale. The décor reminded him of Monet's work, tolerable and possibly interesting from a distance but a mess up close. And maybe it fitted just fine, his dark and light sides consistently incompatible with each other.

Sounds from outside jarred sentimental nonsense and like any normal person, he looked to where a door handle might be, to see if the visitor would drop in. A tingle ran up his spine, like one of his Teases ice-skating over his back. There was the bumpy-clanky-clong resembling someone fumbling with a handle. And where there was previously thought to be no door, a squarish outline now swung open to capture a slight figure framed in the opening and stepping through.

Half-lidded eyes widened at the intruder, revealing a sudden gleam that was almost omi- er, enthusiastic.

"Um, excuse me, I'm not too good at abrupt and unexpected scenarios, so if you could tell me where- uh, oh-"

If this Noah was the closure of things, Allen Walker had just opened a can of worms by showing up in the wrong space. Needless to say, the door swung shut behind him and like any good B-grade movie, the exit knob vanished with a wink. Backing up against the wall and frantically groping behind him, he was well aware of how his life sporadically resembled an epic fantastical soap opera. The gatekeeper going bananas on him. Kanda wanting to know him inside-out at swordpoint. Komui 'repairing' his arm. Lavi keeping him at garlic-length after Krory had bitten him. But never at this instance could it be more wrong.

At times, God's sense of humour was too much like Cross Marian's presence in his life.

"You're really not dead, to be invading my space like this. So much for completing a job in China. Or are you a figment of my imagination?"

Stubbing out the cigarette and getting up from the majestic high-backed chair of solid oak varnished to a beauteous black, Sir Tyki Mikk casually plucked a volume from the pile in front of him and rounded the table towards one panicking exorcist. Stopping against the table and flipping the book open, he read the contents out loud in a seriously earnest tone.

"In a series with some sort of following, fandom has a talent for sex on the brain involving fictional characters, regardless of age. Needless to say, the possibilities are endless and especially where attractive male and female characters are concerned… So, if the conflict between Noahs and Exorcists were a series, does that mean I'd be doing very naughty things with every notable male? Like with your eye-patch-friend or to you, Allen-_chan_?"

With that last emphasis on the final word, the reader burst out guffawing at the bug-eyed conflicting expressions altering his prey's face every five seconds or so.

If Allen had been about to lose his marbles before, he was now on the brink of spontaneous combustion to escape in a cloud of smoke. The insinuations slammed his innocent imagination into a blank wall of ignorance to keep him safe, leaving him spluttering like a goldfish. He was also positively certain the Noah had snapped, because this level of dementia had never been seen before _and where_ _was the man's mind going?!_ _Door, where the heck are you?! Open sesame! Open jamboree! Openopenopendamnit-_

"Oh god, Road's essays are hilarious when she takes a silly topic seriously, in the name of fun- And what are you looking at me like that for? Don't worry. I have no interest in a pale, scrawny beansprout."

_Except in screwing you mentally, that is. Oh, Allen Walker, you could amuse me all day._

The change in body language was a praiseworthy Jekyll and Hyde, going from shaky knees to shaking shoulders, as dark flames erupted around the subject of mockery. With the ferocity of a shark and a menacing scowl as he raised his newly-activated Innocence threateningly, the teenager was now all about serious business. Further verbal prodding was not helping.

"Hey, isn't that the Innocence I destroyed? But I wouldn't imagine it back. Ah, of course, this isn't real, so you can imagine your desire into working here. And who knows, maybe you're trying to recover it while I go about family business. _Not that it'll help you a single bit when you awaken, boy_."

"Don't. Call. Me. Beansprout. Perverted FLATASS!"

Ooh. Stalemate. Gritted teeth. Limit break on verge of release to temper thresholds.

This was starting to look like one of those icky showdowns whereby everybody would lose. The two would clash, cue lots of disfigurements, one might perish magnificently because that's the beauty of noble hardheads, and lots of fans would wail at the tragedy of no more hot smex. Unless they somehow fell in love during the three seconds it takes to glare each other into volcanic ulcers, or break into a romantic waltz halfway and spoil the excitement in beating the shit out of each other. Or-

"How do you beat the shit out of someone, anyway? There's normally blood, or teeth, or guts, but-"

"What do you take Tyki Mikk for, boy? A studious mugger on the docks at night? Oh wait, don't answer, since you exhibit some intelligence for comebacks occasionally."

Glaring at each other isn't as tired as saving the world or a species, but it would be interesting to do something else other than maintaining easily-misunderstood tension. The feeling was mutual, but unvoiced as usual. Heaven forbid that they agree too obviously on something fundamental, for it would be a move towards peace and then there'd be no more reason to fight. And then the story would go bye-bye, because writing about raising cows and pigs and hens and a sweet little cabbage patch on a farm of lovejoy for two, when not building a cute white fence with rose bushes would do serious damage to dramatic angst.

Sounds like the success story for United Nations that has never come to pass, like ducks farting underwater.

Anyway, Tyki was bored. And he had an opportunity for entertainment. Who knew if he'd get another chance like this to torment the beansprout, so with a snap of fingers…

"Cards! Remove the coat, roll up the sleeves to the elbows and let's have a bet!"

Huh? The cardsharp whose code name was Destroyer of Time was having trouble catching up. Maybe it was because his opponent was setting the pace and throwing too many curveballs. A bet?

Producing a deck of cards from a pocket and placing it on the table, Tyki shrugged off the black coat, undid the first three buttons on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves.

"Um, wasn't the table long and rectangular and messy before? But now it's fl-er, small and circular. And besides, who says I'm agreeing? I'm leaving!"

"Then why are you still standing there and talking? Imagination, boy. You'd have a hard time figuring out how to leave if we're fighting each other. So let's put it this way: Play a game of cards. If you win, I'll let you go without interfering. If you lose… You have to promise to stand still against the wall for five minutes with your hands up."

If he hadn't been an exorcist, Allen Walker might have been a journalist. Capable of asking the right questions at the wrong time, able to go off on a thought tangent while listening to another person, and a talent for picking things up fast. Even as he reluctantly followed suit, his scalp was now all prickly, his skin suddenly three sizes too small for his uneasiness and he did not like the beatific smile displayed by the other. Hands up? For five minutes? What did he want five minutes for, anyway?

"Ok. But gloves off too. And what do you need five minutes for?"

Momentarily putting the cards aside to remove his gloves and hurl them almost disdainfully at the chair opposite, Tyki leant forward.

"I've picked Road's favourite card game known as 'Speed'. We each get half a deck, and it's similar to playing a piano up and down the scales. The scales are in the center. We each have four slots on our side laid down from our primary deck, and they are replaceable when we empty them. Otherwise, you have to wait until you see an opportunity for doing so. The game starts the moment we flip over a card, one from each side for each scale. If both scales happen to possess the same figures and if you're quick enough, snap all and both piles of cards will go to your opponent. We then reshuffle the cards and restart again. The winner loses all his cards first, or has the lesser number of cards after three rounds. Got it?"

Seriously? No way! As if! This was child's play! Allen hadn't touched it in years and now he had to, in the unlikeliest circumstances? It was ludicrously simple. After resisting the urge to laugh at the other, he could see that the challenge might have a huge catch. Unexplained stakes, a rival whose speed and cunning was not to be lightly taken, and a setting that had him off-balance in many ways needed- He needed a bit more advantage.

"Alright. But before I play, explain why you insist on five minutes and my hands up."

The smile took on a slightly more sinister slant, as cards were being shuffled.

"Ten minutes might be too extortionist. It's clear that whose dream and whose nightmare it is hasn't been established, which is why this scenario is not going completely by yours or my wishes. So let's find out, since we've met. Besides, I want to see how much and what type of damage I can inflict with my Teases, and whether you can recover from it. After all, there's a possibility that whatever you suffer here follows you into the waking world in some form. And five minutes… I can think of plenty of methods to try. On your honour, I'm sure you'll do your best not to scream. By the way, how's the heart?"

The reality slap was a sharply blunt sting. How could he have forgotten he was dealing with a sadist? Despite the easy camaraderie, underneath it all, they both had jobs to do. Opposite sides to bat for. Damnit. Why? Why did it always come down to this? Why couldn't there be world peace?

Resisting the urge to clench his fists, Allen seated himself at the table.

The game was on. The gloves were off. And hopefully by the end, both could walk away peacefully.

Competition in sheer instinct was a delight. Both discovered how swift and sure the opponent was, due to the 'snap all' rule. The first time, right hands landed on both piles. It must be a fluke, and the results were inconclusive. So the cards were reshuffled, and dealt again. The second time it happened, uncertainty crept in. This was starting to feel like a private joke by someone other than them. If strings were being pulled, they were marionettes mirroring each other too uncannily.

"Ow! Did you have to smack so hard? Jerk."

"I might say the same of you, boy. Your hand's practically squashing mine."

"My hands are smaller than yours! And besides, let go! What are you holding my hand for, pervert?"

"That freakish limb? Sure, but shouldn't you be doing so without me having to throw your words back at you?"

Contact was broken with a grievous air, and dagger-like glares exchanged.

The cards were reshuffled, and the game continued. And on the third occasion-

"What's with that reaction, boy?"

"I could ask you the same thing!"

Both were clutching their right hand protectively in the left. It was as if the slightest touch had scalded and left some wound that needed soothing. Whatever it was, it was just too weird. One might detect a slight sense of jitters. If a microscope was taken to the mental processes of these two, it might look something like this:

_You're a worthy foe, boy. A smile and an unflinching gaze, even when you are going to die. It's a pity, when you're such an interesting human. I can see why Road is so enraptured by you, when your masks are as strong as mine. Always warm, like your fingers which are too slippery and I would like to stop, by- _

_He's being a real pain about this. But it's nice though, to be 'enemies' but not fighting for blood. If he ever polishes his card skills, I'd have to watch out. And he should, with such long and nimble fingers. I wonder if he's good at the piano. And they are amazingly warm, even though his politeness is cold and-_

_**EHHHH?!**_

What the heck was that? The last was combined knee-jerk alarm of each party at their own meandering thoughts. Totally unexpected! Too shallow! Too deep! Too irrelevant! Too crazy! Swim back to the now of gaining victory! In fact, it doubled the desire to get this over with.

The snap-all rule was discarded. It was going to be gritty and gruesome. Especially when Lady Luck decided to join hands with God's sense of humour, and award victory to-

_Oh. No. _Allen stared numbly at the two piles, his last card in his hands. It was removed from his grasp ever-so-gently by a triumphant Noah, who proceeded to toss it aside. Ace of spades.

"Time to fulfill your part of the bet."

Putting both hands on the loser's shoulders, the victor eventually steered his prey over to the wall, then stepped back to evaluate him. Hm, he might just be spacing out from shock, and the realisation of what the result meant. Heh. His Teases would have a hearty meal soon enough. With a snap and haughty flourish, a cloud of them appeared about his shoulders and arms, almost like a cloak. And he waited for the exorcist to get ready, before he would proceed to create a splendid wreck. Anticipation was delicious.

Now, where to start…

Five. Minutes. Breathe. Closing his eyes for a second to gain courage, he leant against the wall and raised his hands above his head. No sooner did he note the slight flexing in the wall, then there was the lightest brush of- Allen opened his eyes and gaze following the sensation, blinked at the sight of numerous Teases sitting on his arms and legs. Wings barely fluttering, they didn't do anything more than use him as a perch. Their master however, was an entirely different matter.

He was using a red marker pen to draw noughts and crosses all over Allen's white shirt and grey overcoat in a seemingly random fashion. One eyebrow furrowed in concentration, a few more strokes had the various points connected in some odd reasoning apparent only to the artist. Looking up to intercept a look of puzzlement, the man smiled a smile that sent shivers down the recipient's spine. And with one swipe that was light as a feather, had slit cloth in two with a nail. Skin did not escape unmarked, and a thin line of red appeared on pale flesh. With another wave of his hand, two tiny Teases landed on grey knuckles. Allen Walker was fortunate to be given a prolonged experience with his pets.

The boy's face was devoid of colour, but his features were expressionless and his lips set in a grimly determined line. Moving closer, Tyki looked down and grinned almost kindly. Bending lower, he whispered in the other's ear.

"Don't worry. While you still have energy to scream, I won't let you die. Then you can go. Any last wishes or regrets?"

For a moment, his prey seemed to tremble. And then shoulders straightening, eyes as clear as a lake in spring stared into lazy sunlight.

"Don't put on a poker face. Just tell me."

Allen's next words made even the Teases pause.

"It's sad."

Why?

"When I met you, we were carefree strangers in this world, who formed a connection. You were as human as me. If dreams could come true, all I'd want is the choice of people playing cards, so no one would have to die."

Man stared at boy. These were words that would come back to haunt them both.

So tragic, so solemn, so revolting... Tyki lit another cigarette, let it hang loosely from his fingers as he tilted his head to one side, as if contemplating the sentiment, before dismissing by savagely stubbing it out on the skin covering Allen's heart. Then he lit another and did the same thing another four times, as if wanting to punch through that chest. Dots for a cross, for X marks the spot. Listening to the sharp exhalations and ragged breathing of his 'punching bag' made those words more bearable, because he could not erase them from his conscience. This boy was so full of love for humanity that it... made... no... fucking... sense. And to recognise that some little inner portion strongly agreed with this runt was appallingly queasy. Now he wanted to slap that one's head off the spine.

The suddenly continuous ebb and flare of heat and pain made Allen wince, as he did his best not to make any noise. This was not assuring at all. Trying not to let terror get the better of him, his mind tried to calm his spirit. It's only five minutes. Think of the time Komui fixed the arm. At worst, it's a razor-sharp pain that reminds one of a blade-

Breathe. Be patient. Be cool. Don't channel hot-headed Kanda- Irritation and annoyance was the end result.

"Will you just hurry up and get this over with?!"

Clonk.

"Beansprout?"

A familiar voice was faint, coming from somewhere outside the room. Both boy and man had stiffened, gazes darting in the direction of where the source might be. Nervous hope suffused one face, and curiosity in another. Then there was silence. False alarm? Maybe. The Noah was all set to start enjoying himself-

ShickShickShick.

As a created opening folded into the room, like a floppy paper cut-out, Tyki Mikk took a quick glance at his boardgame, took a quick glance towards the impending intrusion, and… did the only thing that made sense.

He hugged Allen, who had just opened his mouth.

For his part, Allen was very confused. Any confusion was interrupted by a mouthful of shirt, a blinding sea of white and sudden surge in temperature. Breathing was suddenly much more difficult. Not to mention he thought he had heard- So naturally, he turned his head towards an airier opening…

And met the intense focus of night-black eyes. One elegantly disdainful eyebrow was twitching, almost like a fidgety puppy. That was coupled with lips pressed so tightly together that they didn't seem to know which way to curve. Mugen however, was obviously all ready for action. Action that would be interesting, once its owner figured out what to do next. Mental traffic lights were spluttering an indecisive orange. A smiling enemy. A non-resistant colleague. Two pairs of saucer-shaped, blinking eyes.

"What the hell do you think you're doing with a Noah, beansprout?!"

"T-that is- DON'T CALL ME BEANSPROUT! I HAVE A-"

"Allen-kun agreed to have some S & M fun with me. And you're _interrupting_."

Now, Tyki had always been a rather honest boy, and the habit carried over into adulthood. It was just that he liked summarising and didn't like explaining much, unless it was someone he felt kinship with. Besides, how was he going to do the whole slash-and-massacre-into-a-beautifully-bloody-mess affair, when there were capably nosy parkers barging in on his game? Well, one may not count as a massacre but it's the sentiment that matters.

Kanda obviously had a different interpretation. His eyebrow appeared to have advanced from a tic into a spasm, and his eyes had narrowed into tiny slits. If one stared closely enough, fingers clenched tightly around a hilt might just be trembling slightly. He'd thought the tacky setting belonged to the enemy, but now he wasn't so sure. How could Allen be so traitorous? _Detestable.Despicable.Damn.Damn.DAMN_

For his part, a white-haired chap was nonplussed at how passive everything had suddenly become. It reminded him of dark forests and haunted castles at sunset, when the birds stopped singing and people became too chipper to hide incredible uneasiness that gushes over them like a geyser. The silence was a gramophone that had ground to a halt. Or perhaps, he needed glasses. What he was greeted with was-

"Howdareyoudoweird, er, cosythingswiththeenemy, STUPID BEANSPROUT!"

Huh?

Barely hiding a malicious grin as a fuming whirlwind of blue-black and silver lunged towards them, one arm wrapped about the shorter boy's waist, while a larger right hand grasped the boy's left. Alas, misunderstanding was evident. Hm, the possibilities might be fun. Whispering very quickly and softly into that one's ear, it was time to see where this unexpected twist went.

"Stick to our agreement, or my Tease will eat into your brain from your ear before your Innocence can activate. Do you like vegetables?"

As a reminder, something light brushed Allen's other earlobe almost teasingly. And away they went.

Activating Mugen before he vaulted over the table, Kanda had to change the trajectory of his swing rather abruptly, as he was immediately presented with Allen's back. Allen, for his part, was starting to get the jitters from the wind of this B & B business. He and Kanda were never meant to be, especially when it involved his back and Kanda's blade. Glancing up, it wasn't hard to read amusement spelled out across his tormentor's face. However, Allen didn't have a talent or prompter for always deciphering expressions and besides, what was his friend blabbering about?

Twirling his 'dance partner' around and pulling that one flush against his body, back to front, Tyki slid to his right and winked at his opponent, who had just retreated back a few wary steps to create some space and reassess possible attacks. Road had always teasingly insisted that since he looked like a high-born lord, he should at least possess some of the skills to go with the appearance. Dancing however, was something he'd felt was a useless skill and besides, all one really needed was manners and poise. However, it might just serve a purpose here and even with deadweight in his arms, didn't quite hamper his speed. Until he got bored, of course. He spun Allen to face him, an almost-tender smile playing about his lips.

"Hey, boy, you're not as heavy as I expected."

Since exorcists were somewhat sparse in number at this point of time, Kanda didn't have any intention of lessening the odds or ability to function, especially as Komui would be really depressed if it happened to this one. He didn't know how he'd gotten here, he wasn't sure how to get out completely, but he was certain that it could all be solved once he'd saved a dumbass beansprout from a deadly foe and exited the room. Or not. Allen's passive compliance and lack of answers was infuriating. Had he gone insane? Was he fond of that smarmy weasel? And what was with the butterflies, another crazy fetish? Wait, what the hell did he have to save him for? Seeing the possessive circle of arm around a lean waist, a thin pale hand clasped in a darker one, and how snugly the shorter boy's head fit just under the other man's chin, like a hand to a glove almost resembling a shy cross-dressing maiden and twisted knight- The inclination not to separate Allen's arms and head from Allen's body was starting to switch poles.

Two hot spots of red had appeared on Allen's cheeks, burning like hot coins. How dare this nut get personal? He might eat enough for a mini-army, but he did at least 200 vertical push-ups singlehandedly every morning, and-

"Oi, move away from the beansprout instead of continuing the indecency!"

"You're rudely interrupting our _pleasure_."

And it sank in, like a dumbbell crashing on Allen's toes. Kanda must have misunderstood whatever this sadist had been referring to earlier, and the misleading idea was being perpetuated for some sick kicks. This had to be corrected at once!

"Kanda, Tyki's joking! He's-"

"Allen-chaaaan, you're hurting me. But you've finally said my name!"

"How far- How can you be so intimate with that?! UNFORGIVEABLE, DAMN BEANSPROUT!"

Dashing forward, a vicious diagonal swipe from lower left to upper right might have taken the man's head off, except that he ducked below the stroke by bending over. That meant dipping his toy backwards, their faces within nosing distance and _this was so much fun_! He wanted to guffaw long and loud. If possible, this brat had gone even redder, because his forehead matched his cheeks. It was hilarious to watch large eyes bulge outwards, eyelashes quiver slightly, skinny frame stiffening, mouth open but wordlessly paralysed by the outrageously messy situation… How adorable. At this moment, Allen Walker almost looked like a girl. If he had been, Tyki might have considered kissing him. For the hilarity, of course. And then rip off his lips.

As it was, an upward glance revealed that the long-haired exorcist might be getting even madder. Oh? Hm. Damn, the second intruder was fast enough to remove some hairs off his head. Before that one could bring the blade directly downwards, he quickly leapt sideways and hauling himself upright, swung Allen between them as a shield for stability. Moving further to the right, he whizzed his 'pardner' along and around the table.

Wait, why not?

One hand slid down and got a good grip.

"Oh, _beansprout_…"

If it wasn't for agonising fear he remembered, ever since having a Tease eat through his heart… Allen might have grudgingly admitted that the cruel pervert holding him had consummate grace and an ability to preserve them in one piece. However, it was because said pervert had put them in this situation, which was why gratitude or appreciation was far from the mind. He was too close for comfort, his expressions too alive for liking, and the room was too bloody hot. Not to mention getting nauseously dizzy and how bad-tempered Kanda could be so unfair- It was as if anything just made the hole deeper! Then what the heck could be said? That exorcist looked like an icy harbinger of hell closing the distance between them, magnificently poised to bring down judgment. It was quite a contrast to being towed around like a rag doll by the Noah, while rubbing disturbingly and probably unintentionally against him. Relaxed but hard to avoid the firm press and flex of lean muscles tensing whenever he moved so effortlessly, and smelling almost intriguingly of mango soap and ash- OH CHRIST WHERE WAS THIS GOING?!

"BAKANDA! YOU TWO, QUIT TWISTING WHAT I SA-"

The enraged shout was stopped in a most effective way.

Shoulders sagged. Eyes widened. A jaw dropped.

Too bad Allen wasn't as fortunate. He only managed one out of the three, along with a squeak. Notmoving. Lips. Warm. Salt. Soft. Guy. Hard. Guy. Gentle. What. The. Tongue._ Tongue?!_

It was only a playful flick, but it was as effective as pesticide. Or in this case, the crack factor had soared by too many levels. Immediate mental shutdown occurred. Or in Kanda's case, it went into overdrive. Sticking a thermometer into that one's mouth would have revealed a temperature of -123 and 321 degrees celsius simultaneously. Too many emotions sent him over the limit, including disgust. Then again, he wouldn't have acknowledged having emotions other than irritation, anger and fury, much less analysing the cause. Seeing Allen remain in the other's grip, wide-eyed and staring at smug amber, while an infuriatingly satisfied smile lingered on- HOW DARE THE NOAH TAKE BEANSPROUT AS HIS OWN!

The table went, both halves smashing into walls that bulged and sagged.

Seeing the murderous aura almost explode as his attacker lunged towards them, Tyki decided that he needed to be able to manoeuvre better and switching his hold, flipped and carried his burden bridal-style. Too bad exorcists didn't seem to have a sense of humour. And remembering the response which was mostly non-reactive except for a slight softening before everything froze, he couldn't resist the urge to tease.

Black was the day. Nigh was the end. There was no justice. The world was cruel. God was evil. How could he not protect one of his chosen, and let another guy take his first kiss?! Instead of Lenalee?! In front of tight-arse Kanda, of all people?! Allen wanted to bury himself in a hole. He wanted to scrub his lips off, because it hadn't been disgusting enough. He wanted to wail and shout and beat up everything, even the air around them. He didn't want to question possible swings or ranges in his sexuality, since he'd never thought about it before. He'd always assumed that he was straighter than Jeryy's ladle. It had been safe. He just wanted to vanish. Time to stop. Be free. Take a break and recuperate. And to heck with the agree-

"Was it your first kiss? Your innocence is so sweet..."

Anything further was interrupted by having to evade silver flashes of death and destruction that morphed into gold. One might have to get serious.

"First Illusion: Hell's Insects!"

Vision went dark and giddy, as he found himself tilted at an alarming angle. The floor and ceiling and walls exchanged roles at jarring speed. And as it became a bit more settled, Allen found himself looking at snow. Or Tyki's sweat-stained shirt covering the back, to be exact. He was very confused and disoriented, especially since they now appeared to be going in circles.

Shickshick-

All that Kanda could see was a scumbag he wanted to wipe out in a glorious red. To hell with the exit.

"Why so worked up? Allen's personal business has nothing to do with your Order. Talk about behaving almost like a jealous lover! You've already damaged two walls, exorcist. You might not want to do that to the rest, especially NOT the 4th-"

Golden eyes gleamed almost gleefully, punctuated by mocking laughter.

"WHY THE HELL NOT, FLATASS PERVERT?! **RETURN BEANSPROUT OR YOU'RE BOTH DEAD!**"

ShiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiickSssssssssssssss-

"K-Kanda, WAI-"

Nothing happened. The question never got answered.

All paper-thin sides started swaying, the last wall of red and white and black finally collapsing inwards with a soft 'swoosh' like a house of cards. The crash of the ceiling however, was not so soft on them.

THUMP.

Shaking his head, a groggy Allen shivered and opened his eyes. How had he wound up on the floor? The blankets had been pushed to the side of the bed, and there was a chill in his bones. He ached all over but his head and backside hurt the most, as if they'd been socked by a mallet. He'd really exerted himself today while sparring against Fou, to try and regain-

The sparsely furnished room was peaceful, grey and illuminated by the barest sliver of moonlight. He looked at the stump of his left arm with a somewhat bitter smile. At least in the dream, his Innocence had been whole and returned to him. Damn Tyki. A bandaged right hand drifted up to touch his lips. Dry. Whew. And he felt the rest of himself to check. The chest was intact and unburnt. Definitely just a dream. At least it hadn't been Kanda kissing him, because that would be way too weird and he wouldn't even know whether it'd be better or worse- Wait, he was not comparing Tyki and Kanda, was he? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Burying his face in one hand, dark eyes opened. What the- What a dream. His mouth was dry, and he felt like retching. However, his cheeks felt hot. Tossing back the blankets, Kanda stepped out of bed and walked over to the window. The back of his skull seemed to throb. Eyeing the moon, it was a shiny white and not unusual. Thank the stars for that. The remembered trauma of the beansprout and the Noah kissing- He definitely needed some pills for his headache and to be as functional as possible. Soon enough, he would follow General Tiedoll to Edo. And with that thought, the clench of his jaw relaxed. Nope, he was not concerned for a certain exorcist or affected by a silly nightmare. Not in any way. His eyebrow was merely twitching away an itch. Where was a sweetshop to destroy, when you felt like it?

Anyway, it had been rather enjoyable. But was it real? Whistling a merry tune as he stretched and heard the comfortable crick of stiff bones, Tyki smiled and got up from the rocking chair. Glancing at the chipped mirror nearby, it was good to confirm he was in his white mode. Pursing his lips, he let out a sigh and smiled. Sleeping in a chair couldn't beat sleeping in a bed though, not to mention the dreams- Allen Walker, eh… Not as detestable as he'd thought, after all. At least not for that duration of rest. He might not give this one up to Road and besides, he had a tiny feeling he might see him and his dicey companion again for the kill. But he had to go meet the Millennium Earl first. Being busy was good.

Having fun in the process was even better. Heh.

* * *

_((A mathematical anomaly to have such temperatures at the same time but then again, Kanda's always been good at maths and no, this has no logic or relevance on the scientific impossibility, or should I say, possibility in this dreaming.))_

**A/N**: I wrote with the premise that Kanda and Allen may not have considered the topic of sexuality in any depth before, and therefore possibilities of being more than straight would include reactions that match their characters, before acceptance and understanding has any chance of being reached at their age (especially in acknowledged societal norms of the 19th century). Tyki seems a bit more ambivalent in character, which made it slightly easier. 'Bakanda' comes from chapter 133.


End file.
